


Not your problem

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Mentions of possible depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 11:47:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6115504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off of supernaturalimagine's: Imagine Sam and Dean finding out that you’ve been ditching school to avoid bullies</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not your problem

Y/N scuffles into her house, body folded like she is bearing the weight of the world. She tries to stealthily go to her room in the basement when Dean and Sam burst through the door. Their Supernatural High School grey sweatshirts are soaked in sweat. Y/N had forgotten that basketball practice was going to end early today because of a teachers’ meeting.

“Hey Y/N, you're coming to our game this weekend, right?” Dean races over to Y/N and wraps his arm around her shoulders bring her close to his side.

“I'll think about it.” The thought of bumping into those girls, the three girls she'd just raced home to get away from, at the game shakes Y/N up inside.

“Come on! Sammy and I need you there, cheering us on as we crush Coast!” Dean is oblivious to Y/N’s hesitation, his mind consumed with the images of Coast’s captain fuming after Supernatural destroys them in the last game of the season. The last game of Dean’s senior year and Sam's first game as a starter.

Y/N takes on look at Sam's face, excited building in every fiber of his being but that fear doesn't escape Y/N's gaze. The distinctive way his face scrunches, almost as if he smelled something foul, and the tension in his shoulders are dead giveaways. “Okay, I'll be there.” For them. Always for them. They'll know if I don't. They'll figure me out.

The rest of the night goes by in a blur for Y/N. All the dinner table chatter fading to muffled voices as she pictures every possible outcome for Saturday. None pleasant, but she can't turn it off. She wants it to stop but they keep playing on repeat. Their content laughs, the audience’s boisterous laughter, as they completely annihilate Y/N in front of everyone.

Y/N lowers her utensils, silently gives her leftovers to Dean, and goes upstairs to her room. The blasts and battle sounds from Y/N's computer as she plays her favorite game is the only sound in her room. Even this doesn't ease her and it's her cure all. Frustrated about dying for the umpteenth time on a simple recon mission, Y/N turns off her game and creates a cocoon of sheets around her as she lays in bed.

Sleep is the only peaceful time she has, but it ends much too quickly. Once again it's morning. She has no clue how to get away from school this time, but she can't go. She just can't. Dressed, Y/N goes downstairs and bolts out the door. Before she can shut the door her mother calls from the kitchen.

“Sweetie, you’re not going to eat anything? I made your favorite!” Mary comes around the kitchen corner, leaning against the doorframe, with her hands tucked into her apron.

“No, not really hungry. I'll just grab something from the cafeteria when I get there.” Without waiting for a response Y/N slams the door closed leaving her mother dazed and with a terrible feeling in her gut.

A block away from school Y/N dials the schools number from her phone. The line rings twice before the secretary answers.

“Supernatural Junior High, Mrs. Kandington speaking.” The woman's voice is much too happy and too high. Forced to the point that Y/N can hear the crackling in the woman's voice.

Mimicking Mary's voice to a “T” Y/N speaks, “Hello Mrs. Kandington, it's Y/N’s mom!”

“Oh hi Mrs. Winchester, is Y/N feeling any better? We really miss having her around.”

Y/N sucks through her teeth, “That’s why I'm calling. She was throwing up almost all night and she going to the doctor today, so she won't be able to make it.”

Mrs. Kandington’s voice drops to her normal tone, “Geez. I hope she feels better soon.”

“Us too. We hate seeing her like this. Hopefully she'll be back tomorrow. Talk to you soon!” As Y/N goes to end the call she hears Mrs. Kandington calling out to her.

“Yes?”

“Mrs. Winchester, I'm sorry if this is me overstepping, but have you noticed anything different with Y/N?”

“No? Why?” Please be nothing.

“It's just that lately Y/N hasn't been seeming like herself. I just heard that she quit drama club a month ago and I know she was excited to play Mercutio in the upcoming play.” Fuck!

“I didn't know that..I'll be sure to check with her. Thank you so much for telling me.”

“No problem, Mrs. Winchester. Goodbye.”

Y/N returns her phone to her jean pocket and scowls. This is not good. Y/N plays out her options in her head, but all involve having to go to school and facing them. She kicks the fallen acorns along the path towards the city park and turns her eyes to the sky. Fluffy clouds fill the light blue sky. The birds chirp their happy songs and the people around her stare at their phones, oblivious to the world around them. Y/N sits down on the cleanest park bench that she can find and buries her hands in her jacket pockets.

“What am I going to do?” Unintentionally, the tears she's been holding back comes to the surface and slip over.

The park goers pass by, giving worried glances but none stop to ask if Y/N is okay. And she's alright with that. This open moment by herself is what she needs. To release but have no one console her. The day wastes away as Y/N works through her thoughts. Before long the two o'clock alarm rings on her phone. Y/N listlessly walks home, not mentally prepared to lie again to her family. Even if she had a plan it would go down the drain as soon as she walks through the door.

With her arms crossed and a mixture of anger and worry in her eyes, Mary stands in the middle of the living room.

“Y/N, we need to talk.”

“Mom, I-”

“Let me talk first.” Mary walks towards Y/N and gives her a bone crushing hug. “Why have you been skipping school?”

“How'd you find out?”

“Your English/Drama teacher called. He said he hasn't seen you in a while and was concerned that you were falling behind on your work.” Mary grabs Y/N closer. “So who is it?”

Y/N backs out of the hug. “What?”

“Who's been messing with you?” Mary stops Y/N before she can lie, again. “Don't say ‘nobody’ because I know you. So who is it?”

For a moment Y/N considers lying, hiding it away from Mary, but the look in Mary's eyes, the persistence, stops Y/N. So, Y/N spills it all. Her mother on the brink of angry tears sits quietly as Y/N recounts the countless stories of sabotaged performances, bets placed for her crush to pretend to be interested, and accusations of plagiarism. Anything to make Y/N's life difficult. By the end, she feels like some of her burden has been lifted, but also incredibly guilty for it.

“Why didn't you talk to us sooner?” It is the only thing on Mary's mind. Did she do something to make her daughter feel incapable of being honest with her school life? But the answer she gets is not what she expected.

“It's not your problem, it's mine. I didn't want it bother you guys with something I can handle myself.” You guys hardly notice anything but work or the boys, anyway. So why bother?

That's when it all makes sense for Mary. It's not just the girls from school harassing Y/N, it's in the house too. They often have forgotten numerous drama events and constantly stood by the boys side when they had basketball games or practices. They'd unintentionally played a part in making their daughter feel like a shadow in her own home, like nothing.

“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, sweetie.” Mary rubs the tears away from her daughter's face.

That night, the family is silent as Mary explains what's been happening for the past few weeks. It hits the boys especially hard. They noticed the difference, your uncharacteristic silence and lack of interest or motivation in anything, and yet, it never struck them as something to talk about. They figured it was just Y/N going through puberty. After the table is cleaned and the dishes are put away, Sam and Dean confront Y/N.

“Hey, kiddo, can we talk to you for a second?” Dean doesn't quite know what to do with his hands or what to say now that Y/N sits right in front of him. So he asks all he knows to ask, “Why'd you quit drama?”

He remembers the late nights running lines and that look in her eyes when Y/N spoke about upcoming plays. She looked alive. Now, he sees the difference. The dull look in her eyes and the way she seems to try to take less space than anyone else.

“Just, you know, it wasn't a big deal, and I didn't want to bother you guys with my problems when this is your last season.”

Sam is quick to respond. “Well, this is your last chance to do drama at your school before you go off to high school. So why quit?”

“I-I don't know..just didn't feel like performing anymore. It's stupid.”

“So is playing basketball. We're bound to get injured, low chances of making it to the big leagues, and so on. Plus, do you know how stupid we look huffing and chasing a ball? But we do it because it makes us happy. Drama used to do that for you. If you don't want to perform because you don't like, then we won't give you shit, but if you're giving up because of other people then maybe drama really isn't for you.”

Dean goes to tell Sam that he's being too harsh, but silently follows when Sam motions for Dean to leave.

“What was that about, Sammy? We were supposed to be picking her up, not doing that!”

“Dean, you know how she is. Y/N hates, hates, being told that everything will be alright or to just ignore what's going on around her. She's stubborn, competitive, and that's what I was looking for. Otherwise, she should just quit. She won't survive the world of theater if she doesn't get her fight back. Let's just hope it worked.”

Saturday rolls about. The court’s bleachers are packed with expectant spectators. Y/N immediately notices the band of conniving girls seated next to the Supernatural High basketball players. One, Ambeli, is mingling, creating a name for herself as leader. Her charms are quickly binding the boys to her will much like it has for her friends, Kallie and Micheal. Kallie and Micheal are the first to notice Y/N's arrival almost as if they can smell her fear from where they sit.

Ambeli rises from her seat, excusing herself with pose befitting of a princess, and approaches Y/N. “Hey, Y/N, it's been so long since we've seen you? How've you been?”

Y/N knows that tone. That's the same condescending, sweet tone Ambeli takes when she is preparing to tear someone down after raising their hopes. But Y/N fights back the urge to snap, treat Ambeli just how she has always treated Y/N, and responds calmly, with grace. “I've been better, but I think that'll change soon.”

Y/N goes to find her spot, her favorite seat to watch the boys play, but Amberli stops her, digging her long nails into Y/N's arm. “Why are you being so rude to me, to us?”

This throws Y/N for a loop. Her, rude? “I guess I have been. But not to you.” Y/N goes to turn away, but decides to say what she wants even if she'll regret it later. Because she knows she’ll even more if she doesn't. “I hope, when high school’s over and college flies by, that if we ever meet again, maybe I won't be disappointed to see the person you become.” I hope the same for myself.

The whistle blows and the tipoff goes to Coast high. They slam through Supernatural’s defense making their first shot, a three. The game is a vicious back and forth. Every point lost is matched with equal gains. Before long sweat is dripping off of the starters, making their hair and clothes stick to their skin. The roar of fans battle with the stomping feet and squeaking of sneakers. The time for the fourth quarter goes to one minute and Coast High is ahead by two points.

The thunderous shouting intensifies, their voices mixing together into an odd hum. Coasts power forward, the captain, gets the ball stolen by Dean. The crowd roars and Supernatural races, the clock running down the final ten seconds. Dean is almost immediately blocked from the inside. Sam, the shooting guard, is ready for a three and completely wide open. The ball floats out of Sam's hands and Andes around the rim. With a light swoop the basketball passes through the net and bounces against the court. The buzzer blares and the shouts for Supernatural High rings through the halls. 100-101.

Y/N bolts out of the stands and wraps her arms around her insanely sweaty brothers. Dean almost has tears in his eyes and Sam with a look of frozen disbelief.

“You guys did it! Congratulations!” Y/N, in that moment, wonders why she never paid attention before to how light her brothers are when they play. How in their element they are. Is that what it's like when she's on stage?

The Coast High captain and his team form a line across from the Supernatural team. Their somber “good game” is forced out of them by their coach who shakes hands with Y/N's father, John.

John turns to Y/N, his face stern like when he’s coaching. “And you, young lady, are going to talk to your drama teacher and see if you can get your spot back.” Y/N goes to protest, about how she's out of practice and there is no way it'll work, but John raising a finger to stop her. “Just talk to him. I'm sure you'll figure something out.”

And that's that. The drive to Y/N's school, Supernatural Junior High, feels like ages for her. Working out ways their conversation will go and only a few seem to work in Y/N's favor. As the auditorium comes into view her heart lurches into her throat. Y/N exists the car, and spots her drama teacher, Mr. Zapata, rifling through the stack of scripts he is balancing on one of his rolled up sleeves dress shirt.

“Mr. Zapata! Can I talk to you for a second?” He raises his head, wire brimmed glass glinting in the sun.

“Oh, Miss Y/N, it's nice to finally see you again!” There is no malice or sarcasm in his voice even though Y/N pictured that there would be. “Are you going to be coming to class soon? Or are you just going to hang around in the park, staring at the sky?”

“How'd you?” Incredulous, Y/N feels her face freeze in a state of confusion.

The smile on his face is as cunning as ever. “My favorite lunch spot is close by. I've seen you there for the past couple days, weeks maybe, that I've walked by and let you be.” Y/N goes to ask why, but Mr. Zapata answers without prompt. “I know that look. I've been there. Sometimes people don't want to be comforted or be asked what's wrong. From what I've gotten to know about you, you are just like that. So, if you needed time, to figure your game plan out, I wasn't going to interfere. Well, until you were getting close to being held back.”

All Y/N can say is, “Thank you.”

“Don't mention it. No, seriously don't. I could get fired.” The smile on Mr. Zapata’s face grows wider, without regret for his actions. “So, what do you need?”

“Can I get my spot back? On the production, I don't expect you to give me back my role.”

“Good, because you weren't going to get it.” While Y/N expected the response, imagined it, it still struck her. “I need to know I can trust you again. As a student and as a part of our crew. Until then, you'll be helping the stagehands. When I think you've done your part we can see if I'll recommend you to the drama teacher over at Supernatural High.”

That's a big move. The teacher at Supernatural High has a finger to the pulse for the theater world. She can get Y/N into the best arts university on a scholarship simply with her recommendation.

“Thank you!”

Y/N looks towards the auditorium, to her family, and sees her chances. All the opportunities to come. What's going to happen, if there are more Ambelis in her path to come, she doesn't know. Maybe there won't be, but this, this moment right in front of her, is all she can think of. And all she wants to do is fight to get back on that stage, to feel okay again, and to prove that voice in the back of her head wrong. She'll make. Clawing her way up, but Y/N will make it.

 

 


End file.
